Love After Death
by Buffy Sparrow
Summary: What would you do with your second chance? Would you tell him what he means to you? Or find out how it feels to lose him again? Spike/OC ON HIATUS BUT NOT ABANDONED
1. Nightmares

Love After Death

By Buffy Sparrow

Rated R

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Angel or Buffy. I merely like to play with them a little bit.

Summary: What would you do with your second chance? Would you tell him what he means to you? Or find out how it feels to lose him again?

A/N: _Italics _are flashbacks or, more accurately, thinking back on a certain point in time relative to the story. They will not always be separated by asterisk, depending on the flashback's purpose in a scene and some earlier chapters will contain more than one. Flashbacks set in Season 7.

Chapter 1

_"I'm not leaving him down there," I screamed, struggling against the grasp of Faith._

_"We don't have a choice, Jinx. Now come on," she yells back, forcing me into action. _

_The bus was full of cries and screams, flowing from the mouths of the injured like their blood flowed onto the floor. I seemed to be the only one too in shock to vocalize my anguish, too lost in my own thoughts to even notice when movements ceased and everyone stepped out to stare at the crater. One lone tear fell down my pale cheek and landed on my newest, most precious possession. His lighter._

I awoke screaming, just like every night when the memories haunted me. With shaking hands, I brush my mane of naturally black hair away from my face and notice a wetness on my cheeks. Tears. My green eyes scan the room, gazing upon each individual bed to ensure I hadn't disturbed anyone despite the fact that the girls had gotten so used to my night terrors that they hardly even noticed anymore. Not girls, I have to remind myself; slayers. Ever since Sunnydale, new slayers have been called from all over the world thanks to the witch's spell and the new 'Watchers Council' is filled he brim with them. They are supposed to be training, taking in the demonology that would keep them alive and everyone was doing extremely well. Except me. With the exception of my night time screams, I show no emotions, no willingness to learn any of what they have to offer. The orders from Giles said that Andrew, of all people, has found a place where I can 'be of use'. Meaning they are tired of my shit and are pawning me off on someone else, which is just fine with me.

Knowing there is no longer any hope of sleeping anymore tonight, I climb out of bed and wander down the hall to the library. I've come to find a kind of peace in the musty, book filled room where I can read to my hearts content. Read the different journals from past watchers, read history books and theses written by people who actually knew of the demons that cause so many disasters... Read about _him_. I already know of his past before Sunnydale, know all of the gruesome details that go along with it, and feel no fear or disgust. That wasn't the man I knew, the man I fell in love with even while he only had eyes for Buffy, the original slayer. Those were the times I didn't understand. How exactly was it possible for a vampire to sacrifice so much for his one natural enemy?

Hidden on one of the book shelves, behind dusty volumes that no one touched, is where I hope to find my answer. In the writings Giles so neatly kept right up until that final battle and has now so conveniently 'lost'. Thus far I have found only brief mentions of the man I still mourn, but it's enough to keep me satisfied and his memory alive. I found I could laugh at his determination to kill the woman he would later grow to love while sitting in the quiet darkness, pity his situation after being captured by the Initiative and feel amazed by the trials and sufferings gone through to regain his soul. And it was all for nothing. He died for a woman who didn't deserve his devotion, leaving my heart to shatter while she felt only relief at being able to live a 'normal' life.

As the sun rises, I leave the sanctuary of the library to double check that everything is ready for my flight. I wasn't looking forward to the trip across the ocean, being only my second time on a plane, but Giles promised a comfortable ride in a private plane instead of a commercial one. Whoever I'm being handed off to must be loaded if they can afford to fly me in on their very own jet, or just very interested in having their own personal slayer. I don't really care which, just as long as I'm away from all of these reminders of what I've lost. L.A. shouldn't be too bad.

* * *

A/N: More's on the way, but feedback will get it here faster.

* * *


	2. Whats in a Name

Chapter 2

I sit in the jet alone, my eyes gazing upon the clouds as I worry over what life will be like in Los Angeles. This isn't the first time I've been forced to start over in a new town, and it most certainly isn't the most difficult time. At least now, I'm not moving because my life is in danger.

_All my life, I'd lived in a small town just outside Sacramento and while I'd always wanted to get away from that place, that was not how I'd imagined doing it. Running for my life from something I didn't even understand, let alone wanted to fight against later. I was in a different time in my life, then. More into rebelling against my parents than anything else. My hair was streaked with red and blonds under all that black and my clothes were meant to make me look like a bad girl that would punch you just as soon as kiss you._

_But no matter how tough I looked on the outside, I was scared shitless of knocking on the door in front of me. I didn't want to live with those strangers that helped flip my world upside down. I didn't want to be apart of some greater destiny that would shorten my life span and strand me in a world of darkness. But I didn't have a choice. It was either knock on the stupid door or get killed. _

_My patience was already straining on the edge of non-existent before that moment, but waiting for someone to open the door was just driving me to insanity. I fidgeted while the seconds passed by, feeling like hours were passing and I was going to pull my hair out if someone didn't open the door soon. I hated waiting like that. I hated not knowing if I was in the right place, if I would hate everyone inside or if I would even live long enough to remember their names. Mind made up, I was about to walk back to the street when the wooden barrier was thrown open and a man stepped out looking as pissed off as I felt. _

_His blue eyes held confusion and shock as he registered my presence, their slight widening only making them brighter against his platinum blond hair and high cheek bones. The black, leather trench coat that hugged his shoulders only emphasized the paleness of his skin and it took me but a moment to realize what he was. I was about to run for my life, damning myself for not leaving sooner, when he spoke._

"_Your another one of those potentials, right?" he asked, his British accent washing over me like a cool rain. "Buffy said you'd be coming."_

"_The slayer? Yeah, okay. Cause I'm sure she'd let some vampire in on that little secret," I replied sarcastically, trying not to notice how gorgeous he is._

"_Smart little bird. Wonder how long you'll live."_

"_Hopefully just long enough to remember everyone's names."_

"_Is that right? Spike," he told me, pulling out a cigarette and the lighter that I would later cherish._

"_Jinx."_

"_Daughter of a flower child, I take it. No other way to get a name like that."_

"_Cause Spike's so much better."_

The rest of our conversation is stolen from me when the pilot announces our landing over the loud speaker, dragging me back into the here and now and my sigh echoes through the empty cabin. What I wouldn't give to have those days back again, demons and all. At least I'll know what's coming but no. I have to get to know this new city while pretending to like these new people. For some reason, I suddenly miss England.

It's strange stepping off the plane and not being drenched in misty rain. Instead, I am greeted by sunshine and a familiar face. A hated familiar face, but still...

"What are you doing here, Andrew?" I ask the short, blond and extremely annoying nerd.

"As your watcher, Jasmine..."

"Don't call me that," I interrupt in exasperation.

"Jinx," he corrects. "As your watcher, I have every responsibility to make sure you do your job."

"Job implies getting paid. Making sure I do it, however, implies that you're actually here because Giles doesn't trust me not to do something like...?"

"Kill your new employer," he finishes for me, trying not to shrink away.

"Of course."

He seems relieved by my non-violent response, his shoulders relaxing as he motions me to follow him into the awaiting car. Once inside, I'm faced with the one person I never thought I'd actually get to meet, but had heard - and read - a lot about. Angel, or Angelus on his bad days, is actually sitting in front of me and he's exactly how I pictured him. Tall, with dark hair, haunted eyes and a smile that's supposed to be reassuring but doesn't quite make it there. For a moment, I wondered if he would respond if I flirted with him but my heart quickly scolded my mind. How could I think something like that when I still cried at night? On instinct, my hand reaches into my pocket and pulls out the silver, zeppo lighter. The cool metal calms me as I flip the case open and closed, enjoying the sound and the memories that follow it.

"Um, Angel, this is Jinx," Andrew begins, pulling me back to the moment.

"I'm sure he figured that one out on his own, boy wonder," I remark, never looking away from the object in my hand.

"Well it's great to finally meet you," Angel says, gaining my attention. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I wonder what parts they left out. My bad attitude? My unwillingness to work with others?"

"Pretty much just the bluntness."

I take his small smile as a sign that my habit of speaking first and thinking about it later doesn't bother him, which I guess is a good thing. All it means is that I'll have to find something else to annoy him with. Not to mention, Giles appears to have told him all my nasty little quirks and he's still taking me in. Also a very good thing.

"So, if all that didn't convince you to tell Giles to go to hell than there must be some good reason why you want me here," I probe.

"Andrew told me you like history," Angel replies.

"When it suits me."

"She's being modest," Andrew butts in. "She knows more about demon lore and history than Giles and Willow combine."

"Andrew," I warn.

"Usually, she's so lost in the texts she doesn't even realize she answers questions in a different language. She'd be top of her class if she ever actually went."

"Andrew," I say again, the second warning sounding more like a growl.

"She almost reminds me of Rammell before the whole exile thing..."

My hand firmly around his throat stops him from continuing his rant and his eyes begin to bug out as he turns a bright shade of red. Keeping him pinned against the leather seat, I quickly glance over at Angel to see if he intended to stop me and when he only motions for me to continue I turn back to my 'hostage'.

"Andrew, babe," I growl sweetly, smiling slightly at his terrified expression. "Learn when to shut up."

I release him just as quickly as I'd grabbed him, settling back in my seat while he gasps for breath and rubs away the bruises. I don't feel sorry for the little twirp. Sometimes he just doesn't know when to stop running his mouth and it gets on peoples nerves. It's not like I was the first person to do him bodily harm because of it, or even just for the hell of it. Who could blame us? With all of his comic book references and the 'I used to be evil, but in a logging company sort of way', he needed to be put back in his place every once in a while. Especially now that he has the whole 'watcher' thing to add to his list of titles, there tend to be moments when a god-complex takes over him.

A slight glint on the floor catches my attention and Angel follows my gaze before picking the lighter up off the floor.

"I believe this is yours," he says as he hands it to me.

"No, it's not," I respond with a whisper.

"Didn't know kleptomania was on your list of flaws," he jokes.

"Not since I was fifteen. This is more like..."

"A memento of love lost?"

"Something like that."

He nod his understanding, respectfully keeping his questions to himself as the car comes to a stop and the driver steps out to open our door. Stepping out, I take in the underground parking garage in quiet contemplation before glancing at the two men on either side of me. Angel smiles over at me, watching as my fingers nervously mess with the lighter.

"Welcome to Wolfram and Hart."


	3. ReIntroductions

Chapter 3

It was amazing to listen to the history of Wolfram and Hart and how Angel came to be C.E.O. At the same time, though, I questioned how much could actually be accomplished by taking over an essentially evil company that operates around the globe and trying to make it work for the side of good using only one branch of it. Still, who was I to judge what they were trying to do here? As Angel gave me the grand tour, he also introduced me to some of the people I would be working with.

First, there was Gunn, a man of the streets who somehow managed to become lawyer material overnight. They gave me the short version of how it happened, but it was all a little outside the reach of my understanding. Still, the man seemed nice except for the slight itch for violence I could still see hiding in the depths of his brown eyes. His entire demeanor was very welcoming, though, and I decided I could like him as long as he kept his ghetto-fabulous attitude in check.

Next on our list was Fred, a small and mousy woman who could use words so big the dictionary couldn't hold them. She was the resident science nerd but I could see her love of the unexplainable in the way she walked around the lab, tenderly touching every piece of equipment. Her innocence, though, was what amazed me the most. Despite all the horrors she'd seen in her lifetime, she still retained that untouched mind-set and I envied her for it. When we left, she hugged me - something I never let anyone do - and quietly expressed her happiness about having another woman on the team. She was instantly my favorite person so far.

Angel informed me upon our next stop that I would be working, partially, in the history department with Wesley. I didn't need introductions to know who he was. Wesley was an ex-watcher who lost his British refinery after joining Angel's little gang and the books told me enough about his days in Sunnydale for me to understand how big of a change that really was. He'd gained personal demons and street smarts since then, but retained the accent and love for old, dusty books. I knew we'd get along fine until we started arguing about the importance of Nostradamus in predicting the next major apocalypse.

The last person to meet on my tour is Lorne and Angel warned me in advance that he's strictly on the no kill list. By the time we walked into the room, I'm thankful for the notice. My instincts return briefly to a privative, demon-bad-must-kill state of mind, but I silence it quickly as I'm greeted by the green skinned demon.

"Finally, you arrive! I thought I was going to have to hunt you down if I ever wanted to meet you," Lorne cries out enthusiastically. "You're even prettier in person."

"Thank you?" I say, confused.

"Lorne's an empath," Angel informs me. "He must have seen you coming."

"So you have visions?" I ask.

"Not exactly," the demon replies. "It's more like I can see things in people, like their feelings, past and future when they sing."

"I don't sing," I tell him quickly.

"Well neither does Angelcakes over here, but it's part of the job."

"All employees have to have a monthly reading," Angel adds, trying not to hide his unhappiness about Lorne's comment.

"And if I refuse?"

"Than there's still enough fuel in the jet to take you back to England."

"I knew there was a catch," I mutter, weighing my options.

I'm not entirely comfortable with the thought of some demon guy being able to see my secrets, despite his friendly smile and bright purple suit. Mostly, though, I'm curious. Who gave him these visions of my arrival? I doubt they made Andrew sing, but it's a possibility.

"Alright, but on one condition," I concede. "I want to know what you saw and who was belting out a merry tune."

"This is going to be fun," Lorne agrees with a huge smile. "Just sing whatever you want. It can be Row Your Boat for all I care."

The melody of a song I had heard on the radio not to long ago pops into my head and I quietly lead into the only verse I had memorized

_Flying to Seattle when I heard the news_

_I can't believe you're gone, not the light I knew_

_But somethings get lost_

_Somethings just disappear_

_But not my love for you_

_I'll keep that close and near_

_Some things just fade, like scars and dreams_

_I got your heart right here with me_

Tears I'm not expecting fill my eyes and clog my throat, but glancing down at the lighter still in my hand, I can't help but finish the last few lines.

_I dialed your number on the phone, yesterday_

_thinking you would answer,_

_And then I remembered..._

The room is silent for the longest of times and I refuse to look up to see the reactions. I had always known I didn't have the best of voices, but that never stopped me from being shy about it before. A quiet sniffling noise next to me finally gains my attention and I'm quick to realize I'm not the only one holding back tears anymore. A hankie in hand, Lorne stares at me in sorrow and joy all mixed together.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask.

"Not at all, sweetie," he whispers. "God, I love a girl that can carry a tune."

He wipes his eyes once more before pocketing the piece of tissue and pulling me into a fierce hug. As much as I usually hate any physical contact with people, I take the comfort he's offering and slowly let my wall of bad attitude fall to pieces. For some odd reason, I don't even care anymore what exactly he saw. I feel relieved, somehow, as if now I don't have to hide my mourning behind a lie of monsters under my bed and it's an amazing sort of release.

"Am I missing something?"Angel asks, interrupting the silence.

"Don't worry, she's clean," Lorne tells him as I move away.

"Does that mean I passed?" I ask, smiling.

"With flying colors."

"So, are you going to keep up your end of the bargain?"

"In a minute. Let's move over here in front of the couch, first."

He leads me to a small, black love seat and gives me a mischievous smile, clearly enjoying this way to much. The suspense, however, is slowly killing me and my patience. I let out an exasperated sigh, trying my best to tell him to get on with it, a message which he seems to receive.

"All I'm going to say is keep your chin up. Things always work out for those that deserve happiness. That, and to pocket that lest you want it taken back," he smiles, pointing to the lighter.

"What the hell is that?" I scream while still doing as he says. "You were supposed to give me answers, not advice. If I wanted words of freaking motivation, I would've stayed with the slayer squad!"

"Well... I'll come back later, then," mutters a familiar voice.

My head whips around at the accented voice I only ever hear in my dreams, taking in his bemused expression and the smirk that I love so much. He's like a vision, looking exactly as he had that very last day. His hair is still bleached blond, gelled back in it's usual fashion. His eyes, still bluer than any ocean and just as deep. The subtle smell of leather and cigarettes still clinging to his clothes and duster. I heard his voice, so it can't possibly be a dream... can it? No, he's here... and alive, sort of.

"Spike..."

I find myself sitting down without remembering telling my body to do so and Lorne is quick to land beside me, still smiling.

"You're supposed to be dead," I accuse the vampire, who is now looking extremely confused. "I... I saw you burn."

My last words barely count as a whisper but I can't find the capacity to care whether or not he heard me. I bury my face in my hands, trying to find a reason in all of this. What kind of sick sense of humor do the Powers That Be have, playing this kind of trick on me? It's cruel... it's unethical... it's...

"Does Buffy know?" I ask Lorne after placing my hands back in my lap.

"Is that all you have to say? Damn, I saw this going a lot differently in my head. There was running and hugging and crying."

"It's not funny, Lorne," I cry. "You could have warned me, or ... Ugh!"

I stand up quickly, walking away from the demon that had already betrayed my trust while having absolutely no idea where I'm going to go once I finish storming out.

"Where are you going?" Lorne calls after me.

"The nearest fucking bar," I scream back without breaking my stride.

"It was nice to meet you," Spike throws in sarcastically.

I pause mid-step, feeling all my dreams get ripped to shit in those six words. He didn't even remember me. Every fantasy I'd ever had about seeing him again, every way I'd ever imagined telling him that I loved him... well, this certainly wasn't how they went. Now, with pain in my heart, I couldn't see how things could get any worse. As much as I wanted to keep my chin up, my head bowed in disappointment and I continued on to try and find alcohol.

"I knew her, didn't I?" Spike asks once I'm out of sight.

"Yea, you did."

"Bloody hell."


	4. Memories of Home

Chapter 5

It's hard to get drunk when you're so pissed off you can hardly think straight, but the scotch I'd managed to pilfer from Angel's office did help calm me a little. Sitting on top of Wolfram and Hart, staring at the city's lights, I realize that things weren't as bad as I'd made them out to be. What had I expected, anyways? He never even knew I existed back when we lived in the same, abet crowded, house so how could I have been so surprised by what had happened earlier?

Cursing at myself, I dig through my bag until I find my pack of smokes. Before Sunnydale I'd never even tried a cigarette and afterwards... they became another reminder. I smelled one while walking out of a gas station where the bus had stopped on our way to a hospital and I realized how much I missed that scent. I've been smoking ever since, killing my lungs so my heart wouldn't die. It was pathetic and I knew it, but knowing never stopped me. I remember the moment when my mind began associating that scent with Spike, relishing the memory of one of our few times alone.

_I'd finally managed to sneak out of the Summer's house, moving outside unnoticed only because Buffy was too busy sharing yet another of her uninspiring speeches and everyone else was pretending they weren't falling asleep. A shadowed area of the backyard kept me from sight but not everyone in the house was incapable of hearing a human heartbeat. _

"_Aren't you supposed to be inside?" Spike asked, startling me._

"_Only if the great leader is done talking," I replied sarcastically._

_He laughed, pulling his pack of smokes out of his pocket as he said, "Buffy giving another big lecture?"_

"_Oh yeah. Sounded like it was going to be a long one too."_

"_Can't blame you then, pet," he conceded, offering his pack to me. When I declined he continued, "Still, you should really go back. Endure the horrors with the rest and all that rot."_

It took me all of three seconds to regret listening to him, since Buffy had proceeded to rip me a new one as soon as she'd realized I'd skipped out. Slamming back another finger of the amber liquid, I wonder whether or not I should go back inside this time and do... whatever kind of work they wanted me to do. But then I'd run the risk of running into _him_ again and thats simply one risk I'm not willing to take. I'm not ready to see him again yet, to explain my reaction earlier. I'd probably end up yelling at him, which would turn into crying and... why hadn't I lit my cigarette yet? Damn, I'm to distracted to work anyways so I guess that solves that problem.

The smoke fills my lungs, making me slightly light headed and, therefor, much more content. I watch it drift into the night as I exhale, rising up to join the clouds and pretending to be unaware of the form quietly walking up behind me. My senses identify them as a vampire and my racing heartbeat tells me one person I'm still not ready to see.

"It's not healthy to smoke," he tells me, lighting up one of his own.

"It's not healthy to sneak up on slayers, either," I respond. "Not that it's ever stopped you from trying."

_For some reason I'd actually been excited about that night's training activity, although I wasn't sure if it was because I'd just watched Buffy kill that Ubervamp or if it was the thought of fighting Spike that made me bounce on my toes as I waited for my turn. I watched Vi and Rhona try to fight Spike off, amazed by the sight of him in his game face and the way his pale skin seemed translucent in the moonlight. Even after the fake fight was over and Buffy preached about our 'inherit abilities', I longed to feel the strength of his body as it battled against mine but then again... As Buffy straddled Spike's hips, checking him for any injuries I began to question if maybe I was wanting to feel a different kind of strength. The kind that could only be felt when in the embrace of a lover. For the first time, I realized I wanted him but I hadn't understood that, even by then, I also loved him._

The sound of his laughter pulls my mind back to the present and is soothing to a point where I have to keep my eyes from drifting closed in ecstasy and a smile from my face. I have no idea what to say to him so I keep quiet, enjoying the sounds of the city. My company also seems enough for him at the moment, seeing as how he simply continued to smoke until we'd both finished and took turns attempting to hit random people walking down the street with the butts. I managed to hit a balding man right on top of his head, while Spike merely landed his in some woman's coffee.

"I think I win," I tell him.

"Beginners luck," he replies.

"Stupid me. And here I thought dying would have made you less of a stubborn ass."

"Yeah, but dying twice makes you more of one."

"Only if it's you, Spike."

He's silent for a moment, his head tilted in that sexy way that meant he was either very intrigued or confused.

"What makes you think you know me, pet?" he asks.

"I never said I did."

Turning, I walk back into the building before making my way down to the streets and in search of the nearest, cheapest motel. I'm not picky but, then again, Giles' meager 'emergency' fund didn't allow me much room to be. I stop walking when I realize everything I'd brought with me happened to still be at Wolfram and Hart, making me curse in frustration and jog the two blocks back. How could I have been so stupid? Was Spike really able to distract me that much? Apparently so, I reason, otherwise I never would've forgotten my bags. Those precious suitcases that held every book that ever mentioned him, the one family photo I still possessed, my carton of smokes and only my most favorite of clothes. What I'd left behind could be replaced, but memories couldn't.

"I was wondering where you ran off to," Spike says from a darkened doorway.

"I don't see why it would matter. Besides, I just came back to get my bags and then I'm off again."

"Finding a place to crash, I assume."

"Nothing like a Motel 6 to welcome a girl to town."

He smiles at my sarcasm, tossing yet another cigarette onto the ground before smashing it out with his boot.

"Grab your stuff then. I know a place. It's not great, but it's better than a motel."

Shifting my weight to one hip, I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow. He copies my last move and adds his own little smirk to the mix as if daring me to question him. Just goes to show how well he doesn't know me. Still, I keep my mouth shut and quickly grab my bags from Angel's office. He reminds me to come in early tomorrow so that I can get a feel for the place and get started on an assignment, making me feel more comfortable in knowing that I'll immediately be put to good use. Spike says nothing as I join him back on the street, merely nodding his head before leading me off to his secret place. When we arrive, he unlocks the door that apparently leads into some sort of basement apartment and sweeps his arm out as if gesturing to the room.

"Home, sweet home."


	5. Roommates

Chapter 6

"Wait, this is _your_ place?" I question, looking over the shabby furniture.

"Yeah," he draws out the word as if it was obvious. "Thought you picked up on that."

"You said you knew a place. That could've meant any number of things, like you have a friend or it was some recently vacated building," I feel myself beginning to rant and take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I can't stay here."

Being in the same room with Spike while having the feelings and urges I have when it comes to him was hard enough. Just seeing him again that first time without touching him was difficult. Sleeping in the same apartment, inhabiting the same small space... that was going to be impossible. How could I possibly be so close to him and still keep my feelings secret? Why would I want to put myself so close to temptation?

His eyes bear into mine, demanding the explanation I'm unable to give. I debate all the reasons, both good and bad, for staying here with him until I finally make a decision. I know I'm going to regret it eventually and yet something inside me simply doesn't care.

"I get the couch," I finally concede, enjoying the way his eyes light up.

His tour reveled four rooms in the basement apartment- a kitchen, the living room, a small bedroom and an even smaller bathroom- and after seeing the condition of the bedroom I was glad I'd called the couch. He offered me a beer while I unpacked some of my stuff, which I readily agree to in order to calm my slowly shattering nerves. By the time I'd arranged my things to my liking, while keeping my precious books hidden, and changed into boxers and a long shirt, Spike was ready for a little chat. Its obvious to me that he's most curious about the past we shared but he didn't remember. A long conversation that he's prepared for with an extra beer for each of us and a comfortable position on the couch. Since I'm still on London time, I don't have the excuse of being tired to get out of the coming conversation but I can always avoid the topic all together. I'm not sure how to do it... but I can try.

"I don't remember seeing you in Sunnydale, pet," he says, delving right in.

"You don't even remember my name," I shoot back, slightly bothered.

"I do now."

"Do you?"

He smirks at my challenging tone, obviously getting the message that I don't want to talk about Sunny_hell_ but seeming to ignore it.

"Where'd you sleep when you were at the Summer's Hotel?" he asks after a moment.

"I had the pleasure of having my own private alcove between the living room and the kitchen. You seemed to enjoy stepping on me most mornings."

"I remember that. You have quite a mouth on you," he smiles nostalgically.

_An understatement. I'd had only an hour or two of sleep the first time he'd stepped on me and, while he'd only gotten a finger or two under his boot, I was extremely unhappy about the wake-up call. So much so that I'd accused him of being a poor excuse for a vampire and called him every unkind name ever created. _

"_It's not my fault you choose to sleep outside my door. Go sleep with the rest of the slayerettes," he'd demanded, looking about ready to snap after my bitch out._

"_Like hell I will," I'd screamed back. "Why should I have to bed down with ten other girls in one tiny room? How about instead you stop being a selfish bastard and open your basement up for some of us?"_

_I received a raised eyebrow and a lewd comment about his bed always being open, neither of which stopped me from getting stepped on again the next morning. Sometimes, as I laid in my secluded nook, I wondered what would've happened if I had gone down into that basement..._

"Did you have any friends in the Slayer Squad?" he asks, pulling me from the memory.

"People don't like me. Something about being a bitch just isn't appealing to potential friends."

We laugh and out of the corner of my eye, I spot my way out of the conversation.

"How many controllers do you have for that thing?" I ask, motioning toward his Playstation. "Because I happen to know I could kick your ass in Red Faction."

His evil grin tells me I have him hooked and off the topic at hand, which I know will only lead to that final battle that still haunts my dreams. For hours we play various video games, each one full of our own commentary and the occasional physical fight. We'd shove each other off the couch and try to mess up combos by pressing the buttons on each others controllers. By the time we finally part for sleep, I'm beyond smashed and even Spike is weaving a little as he makes his way into the bedroom. I close my eyes to sleep, for the first time forgetting about my nightmares and looking forward to tomorrow.

I wake up screaming, the tears falling more freely tonight than ever before. Spike's arms are around me, his voice comforting me with unrecognizable words and soothing tones. The dream had changed, affecting me to a point beyond understanding and bringing back my pain full force. Instead of Faith, it was Buffy holding me back this time and the things she said will forever echo in my mind.

"_I can't leave him down there," I'd screamed, just like every other night._

"_Why not? It's not like he's down there dying for you, or your love," Buffy told me with a sarcastically confused look on her face._

The world had come crashing around us, mimicking my own devastation. It all seemed so real that even now, as I sit hiding my face in his neck, I can't help but see the truth of Buffy's words. It wouldn't matter if I eventually stole his heart and earned his love, I'd never be her. He would never love me as much as he loved her and would always picture her when he looked in my eyes.

"Bad dream, pet?" he asks once the tears have finally stopped.

"Yeah," I whisper.

"Want to tell me about it?"

I shake my head, somehow finding the will to remove myself from the one place I've always wanted to be and fake a smile. He returns to his room when I lay back down, pretending to sleep even though there will be no hope of that happening tonight or any other night in the near future. I try to figure out what I'm going to do to remove myself from this painful situation, deciding to talk to Angel about staying in the spare penthouse or even on a couch in one of the empty offices. No matter what, though, I know I have to distance myself from the man that holds my heart.


	6. Word Vomit

Chapter 7

I'm gone hours before the sun is supposed to rise, trying my best to bury myself in work before Spike came poking around. I really didn't feel like explaining last night to him and something inside me just knew he'd ask about the dream. Wesley had no qualms about tossing a mountain tall workload my way after giving me the chance to look over the department and it is well after lunch by the time I finally venture out for a smoke break. I was to wrapped up in my own thoughts to notice that someone was following me onto the roof; to unaware of my surroundings to even acknowledge the presence beside me until he spoke.

"You look like hell, Sugar-cakes," Lorne says.

"Thanks a lot," I mutter before taking my first drag and sighing. "I don't think I can do this, Lorne. It's been one day and already I'm going insane."

I explained last night to him, letting him know more about my private struggle than anyone had ever known. Then again, he already 'saw' most of it during my interview but I elaborated on the dreams. He still didn't seem to understand why I was so up in arms, though. And I thought he was the perceptive one of the group.

"It's not the dreams that are bugging me, Lorne," I continued. "It's suddenly going from invisible to his roommate. How am I supposed to cope with losing him, getting him back and suddenly living with him all in one freaking day? It's beyond frustrating. It's... "

"Cowardly." I throw him a look that clearly says that wasn't the word I was looking for, but he brushes it off. "You're trying to hide behind excuses. Listen to Uncle Lorne on this one, Honey. Let him get to know you the way you know him. Become that one friend that everyone would die to have and then see what happens. Just because you don't want to say the words out loud doesn't mean you can't show him. And have fun with it! It's not every day the woman gets to woo the man. When the time is right, you can tell him."

"And what if Spike doesn't want to hear it?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

My cigarette falls, forgotten, onto the gravel-covered roof as my head slowly turns in the direction of his voice. Spike is walking towards us, and I can see the confusion hiding behind that smirk of his. I can see Lorne out of the corner of my eye trying to suppress a smile as he looks between the two of us and I resist the urge to hit him. My mind is working a hundred miles an hour trying to find something to say or a way to cover up the conversation he may or may not have overheard. Despite having a plan in my head, my mouth doesn't seem to know how to follow the leader.

"How long were you standing there?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Long enough to know I'm the topic of conversation. So, what don't I want to hear?"

I glance at Lorne, begging him with my eyes for at least a little bit of help and all I get in return is an encouraging smile. Damn him. Every instinct in me is screaming that I should run or stare at my feet or something. Still, my body seems unwilling to move. My eyes stay glued to his face, watching the flicker of emotions in his eyes and nothing I do can convince them to do anything else. This stupid body has betrayed me and, with a life of its own, throws my arms around him. I bury my face in his neck, clutching him to me and memorizing the way his body feels pressed against me. He doesn't return the embrace, although his hands are reaching outward as if he'd been trying to catch me... or maybe shove me away. It doesn't matter now.

I come back into myself long enough to realize I'd been holding him for at least a minute and I slowly pull away just enough to glance up at him. Those cerulean eyes stare back at me in confusion and I can feel myself beginning to blush. I hate it when I blush. After stammering a moment, trying to make my mouth speak words, I flash him an insecure smile and take a few steps back.

"I'm really happy you're not dead," I tell him, before quickly realizing how stupid I sound and adding a whispered: "Oh, God."

My feet are suddenly running away from them both, finally listening to my head and getting me as far away from him as I can get. I don't stop until I'm huddled in a bathroom stall, kicking myself for acting like an idiot and probably ruining my chances of staying there again tonight. My word vomit echoes another time, another place, when he would have been stolen from me.

_It had been a late night but I wasn't able to find solace in the dream land like the rest of the house. I was the only one still awake when he'd stumbled through the kitchen door, looking much worse for wear and barely able to hide how pissed he still was. I'd found out later that Robin Woods, a supposed ally, had tried very hard to kill him. His left cheek was burned while the other sported a nasty looking cut. His lip was split open, hardly bleeding anymore yet still looking painful, but plenty of blood had flowed from his broken nose. I'd immediately grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the kitchen sink before grabbing a bowl of water and a wash cloth and following him downstairs. He didn't say a word as I crouched down before him and gently washed the blood from his face, cleaning his wounds with concern in my eyes. I took great care in bandaging what I could, muttering an apology when I reset his nose, and then moved back to inspect my work._

"_You'll heal," I said. "I assume it could've been worse."_

"_Only if being dead is worse, love," he's responded quietly._

"_Well then I'm really happy you're not dead," I had told him then, meaning it with every inch of my heart. "Or should I say deader?" _

_He laughed at my stupid joke, making me feel less like an idiot for responding that way. _

I guess it just goes to show how often I open my mouth first and think about the words flying out of it later. I really need to sew my lips shut or something.

* * *

_A/N: I'd just like to take a moment to thank my reviewers for continueing to encourage me. This story wouldn't have gotten so far, so fast without you guys. Please keep it up!_


	7. Bars and Victims

Chapter 8

I managed to avoid Spike for the rest of the day by confining myself to Wesley's office and simply denying my need for nicotine. How to put off going back to his place is another dilemma entirely and I figure the simplest solution is to just go bar hopping. Plus, there's a good chance of running into a few vamps trying to find a tasty midnight snack. It'll be like killing two birds with one very pretty stone. Okay, maybe not a pretty one but a stone none the less.

The closest bar I can find is obviously a dump, if the lack of a door says anything, but I'm surprised to see that it's actually a demon bar. Neato. Unfortunately, I'm not a demon so going in here would be a bad idea. I'm itching for a fight but not that bad. I'm strong, not stupid, but before I can turn to walk back out an arm wraps its way around my waist.

"Where do you think you're going, girlie?" asks the arm's owner.

I smile up at the Fyral demon, doing my best to look him in the eyes instead of stare at his horns. The two or three Fyrals I've ever met weren't the brightest of the bunch but they weren't exactly violent either. Destructive, maybe, but not violent. This is the first one who actually spoke English, though.

"No where. I'm just looking for a friend," I reply, still smiling.

"I can be your friend," he answers with a perverted sneer.

"I have enough friends, but thank you."

The trick is to always be arrogant but never insulting. I knew I wouldn't hurt his pride if I thanked him for the offer but that doesn't mean he'd take the hint. By the look in this guy's eyes, he didn't get it.

"Why don't you let me get you a drink while you wait for your friend, then?"

Men. Be them human or no, they always use the same lines. I'm about to let him down a little less nicely when another arm wraps around my waist and pulls me away from the Fyral. The tug is none to gentle, forcing me to rest my hands on a hard, cold chest to stabilize myself while the smell of cigarettes and leather tells me exactly who decided to save me.

"Lady's taken, mate." Spike says with a hint of menace in his voice. "Best for you to sod off."

"I don't think she was waiting for you, vampire," the Fyral sneers back.

"Now, boys," I chide, flipping around to press my back against Spike," there's no need to fight. Like he said, I'm taken. Besides, I prefer my men with a little more... bite."

Spike apparently decides to demonstrate because I can suddenly feel his blunt teeth pressing into my neck, causing me to shiver and tilt my head to give him better access. The Fyral looks disgusted by the display and quickly walks back to the barstool he'd been occupying. The pressure of Spike's teeth immediately disappear, although the pleasurable sensation is soon replaced by anxiety as he growls quietly into my ear.

"We're leaving," he snarls, leaving no room for argument as he escorts me out the doorless entryway. He doesn't remove himself from my back until we're far enough from the bar that even the vamp patrons won't be able to hear us and then he turns me around to face him, gripping my arms tight enough to hurt.

"What were you thinking walking in there by yourself? You're lucking I showed up when I did..."

"I can take care of myself, Spike," I scream, shoving him away.

I'd always been good at taking care of myself, never letting anyone use me or take advantage of me. Being a victim wasn't my strong suit.

_Something inside me had never responded well to the thought of being someone's victim so when Spike and Buffy abandoned me and the four other potentials in that crypt with the 'leftovers', I was ready for a fight. Kennedy seems to be right there with me, her weapon at the ready even as the others looked around panicked._

"_I can't believe they just left us in here," Kennedy muttered under her breath._

"_But we're just five helpless girls," Vi screamed when the newly born vampire lunges our group._

_Rhona dodged his attack, cracking him across the jaw as Molly kicked his legs out from under him. Vi, being the weak link she was, aimed a kick at his arm and then backs into the nearest corner. Kennedy moved in for the kill, taking advantage of the vampire's downed position and his agonizing scream echoed off the cement walls. Vi and Molly screamed along with him, apparently frightened by his cry of pain but I quickly ended his suffering when I slammed my stake in next to Kennedy's._

_Buffy and Spike came running in, expecting to have to save us 'five helpless girls' from the newborn but they stopped at the sight of me kneeling over the pile of ashes._

"_Well," Spike said, interrupting the silence as he stares at me. "I expected one dead, but I didn't think it'd be him. Well done."_

"How'd you know I was there, anyways? Aren't you supposed to be saving innocents or taking out evil lawyers or something that isn't following me around?" I ask when the memory passes.

He actually has the gall to look embarrassed as he pulls out a smoke before lighting it and trying to hand it over to me, kind of like a peace offering. I take it from him, inhaling the sweet smoke as he lights his own and continue to watch him in frustrated silence. I'm waiting for him to answer my questions but my patience is limited. After smoking half my cigarette, I finally loose that patience.

"Are you going to answer the questions or not?" I snap.

"I followed your scent," he mutters.

"That's a little gross. Why?"

"To see if you meant it. When you said you were glad I'm not dead... well, deader."

I'm dumbfounded by his words. How could he possibly question my happiness at having him back? Oh, that's right. He doesn't know I'm in love with him. Well I'm most certainly not going to tell him that now. The timings just not right. Besides, what would be the point? I take one last drag of my smoke and then toss it away, just so I can look away from him a moment.

"I meant it," I finally tell him, still averting my gaze.

"Why?" he asks.

"Does it matter?"

"No. Not now, anyways."

"Let me know when it does."

He nods, flashing me a soft smile before heading in the direction of home. Home. What a strange thing to call the place I've spent one night sleeping. But you know what they say about homes and hearts. I can't help but smile at that thought because for the first time I know where both lay.

* * *

A/N: So sorry that it took so long to update. The business that is my life has forced me to put my stories on the back burner for a little while, but I promise to start updating regularly here soon.

Reviews are love!!


	8. Watching Over Me

**A/N:** Hey guys! I hope you're still with me through all this. I decided to go back and rewrite some of the story, starting with this chapter. I just didn't like where I'd taken the characters and decided to switch things up a bit. If you don't like it, blame slekwati. She's the one that got me writing again. Check her out, by the way.

Slekwati - these new updates are for you, and for fangirls everywhere who fainted when Spike got laid on Angel's desk. Haha.

Chapter 9

I've done my best to follow Lorne's advice over the last week. Spike and I have become faster friends than I ever expected us to be. We always take our smoke breaks at the same time every day, allowing us a few minutes to escape the mundane together, and most of our nights now are spent getting drunk while playing video games. Tonight, to celebrate the beginning of my first weekend, he's promised to take me to his favorite bar and some of the team has decided to tag along. This place is supposed to be the only decent demon haunt in town, with actual karaoke to guarantee drunken fun that none of us will want to remember come morning. I'm excited as the group walks down the street and I can't help but bounce around a little bit. In another time and place, I would have played the unhappy group member that sat in the corner and moped. Something about being in L.A. has broken down my protective walls, allowing my true self to shine out when I wasn't paying attention. Like now, for instance.

"You're going to float away if you don't stop being so happy, Jinx," Fred comments teasingly.

"I'm surprised she hasn't already," Lorne adds.

Besides Spike, I've probably spent most of my break times with Fred and Lorne. They've become my best of friends at Wolfram and Hart and we're always joking around with each other. Of course, since we've become best friends I've allowed Fred to see a little more into my situation with Spike. Not to much, mind you, but enough that I can talk to her when things start getting rough. I have to admit that both of them have helped me out a lot and I've been nightmare free for almost three days now. I flash them a smile, turning to walk backwards so I can face them. This also gives me the chance to notice that Gunn and Angel also decided to join our little foursome tonight.

"Will you keep me grounded if I start to float away?" I jest.

"And ruin all your fun?" Fred replies, her own smile growing wider.

"I'll tie you down, pet," Spike chimes in. "Wouldn't want to lose the only one of us that actually buys groceries."

"Ah, yes. I must play housewife for the poor vamp that doesn't know what aisle the Weetabix is in. No floating for me."

"I think someone started before the rest of us," Gunn mutters.

"No, she's really just that happy," Angel tells him, looking pleased.

We enter the bar while still smiling and giggling to ourselves. Fred, Lorne and I grab a large circle booth while the rest grab our first round of drinks. Spike slides in beside me when he returns, placing a Jack and Coke in front of me and the rest of the night kind of passes by in a blur. Lorne, of course, is the first of us to be drunk enough to sing and he gives us a wonderful rendition of 'I Will Survive'. It also kicked off the silly song tournament. Fred and I rebuke with 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' but the song is never finished because we both end up falling down laughing instead. By the time I'm outrunning those three sheets in the wind, Lorne declares the tournament over with and the winner undecided, since no one can remember what songs were even sang.

"Jinx, baby doll, give us a solo show," Lorne demands from across the booth.

"No way, no how, green man," I reply, giggling. "This baby doll never sings alone."

"If you sing for me, right now, I'll tell you a secret."

His choice of a bargaining chip makes me curious but even this drunk, I'm not stupid.

"I bet you'd tell me anyways if I asked," I accuse, somehow ending up almost halfway across the table in my attempt to figure out which one of him I should be pointing my finger at. "So I'm gonna make you an offer you won't refuse."

"It's 'can't refuse'," Gunn corrects me.

"No, _won't_ refuse because Lorne here... here... Those two Lorne's love me to much! He's gonna tell me his little secret and in return I will.... um... something that's not singing! Because I can't feel my legs anymore, damn it," I emphasize my point by smacking my thigh, causing Spike and Angel - the only sober ones among us - to chuckle when I let out a not so quiet 'ow'.

"Deal," Lorne screams back at the top of his lungs, grasping for mine and Fred's hands before we attempt to stumble our way outside.

Fred and I let out a couple of giggles when the three of us huddle together, doing our best to not let the one or two people loitering in the alley hear our conversation and Lorne flashes a conspiring grin.

"Somebody's roommate had his monthly reading today!"

"No shit," I cry out rather loudly, causing Fred to giggle again. "Did you see something? Tell me!"

"Shh. Okay, listen. Listen. First, your pajamas. Oh yuck. Jinx-y Jaz, he watches you sleep sometimes! You _need_ new.... Shopping! That's your side of the bargain. I'm taking you shopping for much better nighties."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with... Wait... He watches me sleep?"

"That's so cute," Fred squeals, leaning heavily against Lorne. "You should try to catch him doing it tonight."

"Go home right now and go to sleep. No! Stay here. We're gonna run inside and get Spike and _then_ go home and go to sleep."

The two of them scurry back inside before my muddled brain can think up any sort of response, every brain cell being too busy concentrating on staying standing and trying to figure out what exactly it could mean that Spike has watched me sleep. It could just be that he was making sure I wouldn't have another nightmare. But maybe... No. I can't even think it. I am way to drunk and way too confused to even dream of thinking that Spike is starting to have feelings for me. Shit, I need a smoke. Grasping my pants in the hopes of eventually making it inside a pocket, I eventually manage to coordinate pulling out my pack and setting a cigarette between my lips. Now, to figure out where in the hell my lighter ran off to.

"Need a light?"

Startled by the strange voice behind me, I spin on my heel and almost topple over when I find myself staring into a pair of bright yellow eyes. Note to self: drinking impairs spidey senses. I try to will my fingers into a fist when I realize he's trying to grab a hold of me but for the life of me, I cannot figure out how to make them work. Instead of punching him in the gut as I intended, my partial fist ends up making contact with a very delicate area and we both land hard on the pavement with me on top. My next shot hits it's mark, smacking him square in the face before another set of arms wrap themselves around the waist to lift me off my opponent.

"This is supposed to be my night off," I scream, my head slamming backwards to knock this new foe away from me.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins helps me sober up enough to land a round house kick to the second vampire's head and remember I'd left my stake in my coat, which was still inside. Thank God for great timing, though. I can hear the club's door open just as the first vamp kicks my legs out from under me, my head slamming against the cement when I can't catch myself fast enough. Spike and Angel quickly dust the juveniles as I try to make the world stop spinning from my place on the ground and remind myself as to why I only ever drink at home.

"Jinx, you okay?" Angel asks, leaning over me.

"Fine. Just... a little help here?"

The dizziness I experience on my way to my feet is enough to have me clutching my head and another set of hands reaches out to support me.

"I got her, Peaches," Spike says, pulling me further into his arms.

"Should we call for a car?" Gunn asks.

"No," I insist, making my head pound a little more. "I'm fine. I just need to walk it off. And a smoke. Fuck, do I need a smoke."

Opening my eyes, I find the cigarette I'd been attempting to enjoy laying broken at my feet with my now empty pack laying beside it.

"Those bastards broke it! That was my last one," I whine, the alcohol catching up to me again.

Spike reaches into his pocket, grabbing one of his own to light before handing it over to me. I take a drag as our little group starts moving forward, my free arm wrapping its way around Spike's waist to keep me walking in a semi-straight line. It doesn't take long until Spike and I break away from our friends to head in the direction of his apartment, although I can feel our progress slowing somewhat to accommodate my sluggish pace. Between drinking way too much, fighting off two vampires and knocking my head, I was damn tired and was finding it hard to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

"Talk to me," I mumble.

"What's that, love?"

"Talk to me or I'm going to pass out while we're walking."

"Ah," he pauses for a moment, his grip tightening on my waist. "What'd Lorne have to say?"

"Nope, that's a secret. Although, he's taking me shopping as payment. I need new jammies."

"Says who?"

"Lorne. Mine aren't sexy enough, he says. Like that was something I thought about living in a dorm with almost a hundred other girls."

He chuckles before raising a brow at me. "Seen these nighties of yours, has he?"

"Only when you... Hey! Stop trying to trick me into telling," I scold him, pushing away only to stumble over my own feet when I fail to correctly travel the stairs to our front door.

He grabs me again, pulling me against his chest and I suddenly find our faces only a few inches apart. Every nerve ending in my body is begging me to close that distance, to finally experience what it would be like to feel his lips pressed against my own and, God, how I want to listen to them.

"Only when I what, love?" he whispers, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"Why do you watch me sleep?" I ask in return, spilling the beans. "When Lorne read you today, he saw you watching me."

"Did he now?"

He moves my body until I'm sitting on the steps before moving to unlock the door and letting himself inside, apparently expecting me to find my own way the last few feet. Somehow, I make it without landing on my face but am unable to do any more than lean against the now closed door. It's only when I go to brush the hair away from my face that I realize my hands are shaking. For the life of me, I can't understand why I spilled the beans and now I'm stuck with the job of picking up each and every one of them.

"Just answer the question, Spike," I yell into the kitchen, listening as he grabs a beer from the fridge. "I know I have nightmares a lot, but that doesn't mean you have to watch over me or anything."

Silence is all I get in return and so I somehow force my legs to carry me until I can lean against the doorway leading into the kitchen, watching him toss his now empty bottle in the trash. He won't even look at me and it's all I can do not to curse in every single language I know. I'm such an idiot.

"Just, forget about it. I'm sorry I even asked. Hope I didn't snore."

With anger and self-loathing now coursing through me, my body replies to my commands to move into the living room to grab a new pack of smokes and make my way back outside, slamming the door behind me. Somewhere between the first and second cigarette, I vowed to never drink unless by myself. After that came the vow to move out as soon as I could manage to find a place of my own. I was completely sober by the time the sun came up and, although more exhausted than I could ever remember, I also promised myself to kill Lorne for starting this whole stupid mess.


	9. Shopping and Girl Talk

Chapter 9

If I had hoped that staying up all night would have stopped me from having any further confrontation with Spike, I was dead wrong. With no work to go to and the rest of the world still asleep, there was no excuse for not going back into the apartment to try and get some rest of my own. Still, I couldn't help but be surprised when I found him waiting up for me. He was standing in the living room, shirtless and looking fresh from a shower with a mug of blood in his hand. His hair tossed around and slightly curling, begging me to run my fingers through it. But I didn't have the energy for much more than walking past him to sink in to the couch, my back feeling relieved about leaning against something other than concrete stairs.

Minutes passed in silence between us, save for the quiet hum of the TV in the background, and the only movement being his occasional sip from his cup. When I can't stand it any longer, I force my weary body to dig out a clean pair of clothes and head into the bathroom for a shower of my own. Once the dirt and grime from the night before has left my body, I let out a silent prayer that he'll be gone by the time I open the door.

You know, today just doesn't seem to be my day.

This time I find him reclining on his side of the couch, controller in hand and Twisted Metal on the Playstation. My controller is placed on the cushion beside him like some sort of open invitation and for the life of me, I can't figure out why I took him up on it. We were in the middle of our third race in complete silence when he finally spoke.

"You talk in your sleep."

"What?" I ask, thinking I hadn't heard him right.

"That last nightmare you had... I heard you call my name. Start talking about not leaving me. What are those dreams about, pet?" he questions, pausing the game.

"They aren't dreams," I tell him with a sigh. "They're memories. I was the last up the stairs before Faith. I could see you down there, glowing. Talking with Buffy. Something in me just... knew you weren't getting on that bus, but there wasn't anything I could do. Faith dragged my ass out of there right before everything started falling in around us. Buffy was on the top of the bus... and you were gone. And every night since then, I get to watch you burn all over again." I pause with a sarcastic laugh. "Giles called it Post Traumatic Stress. But that still only explains the one night. What about the others?"

For the first time in our entire conversation, I dare to look him in the eyes and what I find there is captivating. They seem bluer today for some reason and the combination of awe and confusion I find there is enough to leave me mesmerized.

"I don't know," he answers after a moment. "It was only once more after that. Night before last... Couldn't sleep. You didn't say anything, but I could tell you were dreaming something nice for a change."

I frown, trying to remember what I could've possibly been dreaming of but nothing comes to mind.

"And you don't snore, just so you know."

"Well thank God for that," I laugh awkwardly.

Setting my controller down, I escape into the kitchen for a minute with the excuse that I need coffee if I want to survive whatever might come next in this conversation. The smell alone calms my shattered nerves as I watch the coffee maker slowly do its magic, counting the seconds between each gurgle of steam to keep myself from thinking. I'm so busy not thinking, however, that I don't even hear Spike's approach until he's right behind me and I'm forced to back myself against the counter to keep any sort of space between us. The expression on his face makes me feel like some sort of experiment, like he's analyzing every move I make and emotion on my face and it takes me a moment to realize it's because he can smell how afraid I am of him, afraid of the questions he might ask.

For a quick moment, I concentrate on slowing my heart beat and taking a few calming breaths. This would be so much easier if I could just get my feelings under control, but that seems like the last thing to worry about when he starts closing the distance between us again, placing his hands on the counter to effectively block me in. My hands come up to push him away, only to stop before they reach his chest as if they know what might happen should my fingers touch his skin and he smirks at my hesitation.

"What do you want from me?" I whisper, my voice practically begging him to stop this emotional torture as frustrated tears cloud my vision.

The smirk turns into confusion at my reaction to his nearness, one hand coming up to brush a lone tear from my cheek. My gaze is drawn to his mouth when I see it become a thin line of determination before he's suddenly gone from my sight, the sound of the sewer access slamming shut in his wake. I collapse to the floor with a sob and cover my face with my hands, filling the sudden loneliness with cries of despair.

There's something about emotional turmoil that just knocks a girl unconscious, although I'm sure that not going to bed after a night of drinking didn't help any. Despite the long nap I'd taken, every inch of my body is demanding that I try to go back to sleep. Not that it was going to happen. In a half awake daze, I realize two things; one: Spike still isn't home and, two: my cell phone is playing some obnoxious song I can't remember ever downloading.

"I hate your ring tone," I grumble into the receiver after seeing Lorne's name on the display.

"Aw, somebody's grouchy when they're hung-over," he teases.

"Let me go back to sleep and I won't be grouchy."

His laughter fills my ear as I force myself into a sitting position, pushing my hair away from my face.

"Nu-uh. You promised me shopping. Now none of that," he scolds me when I groan. "I'm picking you up in twenty."

True to his word, Lorne comes barging into the apartment twenty minutes later with a Starbucks coffee and Fred in tow. It takes the three of us another fifteen to leave after he refuses to be seen in public with me. Apparently, baggy sweatpants and slippers don't count as 'proper shopping attire'. Who knew? But by the time our little excursion was finished, I had more 'sexy' nighties than thoughts in my head and enough of every other type of clothing that I would probably never have to wear the same outfit twice for the rest of my life. Don't ask me where Lorne got the money to pay for all of it. All I know is that I feel guilty for spending so much and for cluttering up Spike's living room with the dozens of bags that are now lying around.

"I'm never doing this with you guys again," Fred complains as she falls gracelessly onto the couch.

"What are you griping about? You only have one bag! I'm going to have to use the kitchen as a closet," I reply from my place on the floor, trying to organize the chaos.

"Do I sense some ungratefulness?"

"Thank you, Lorne," we both chime.

"That's better. Now how about a drink?" Lorne asks before heading into the kitchen.

"One drink," I call after him. "Then I'm kicking you two out."

"Aw, we don't get to stay for the fashion show? I wanna see his eyes pop out of his head when he sees you in the red one."

'The red one' just so happens to be a floor length silk slip with black lace around the top and bottom and a slit reaching mid-thigh. It's one of those things a woman wears when she wants to be subtly sexy and, despite my hesitation, it's turned out to be one of my favorite pieces.

"That one's my favorite, too," Fred whispers conspiratorially, as if hearing my thoughts.

"Yeah, well... I'll be sure to tell you guys all about it on Monday. How he came home to find me resting seductively on the bed and couldn't stop himself from taking me into his arms before telling me to stay out of his room," I croon, my voice a combination of dreamy and sarcastic.

Fred laughs quietly, "At least he'd notice you laying there. I swear, no matter how far out there I put myself, Wesley can't take the hint."

"You know what would solve both your problems?" Lorne questions, handing us each a glass of wine.

"A vibrator?" I reply.

"Ha ha. No. Just kiss them. There's no better way to say 'Take me, I'm yours!'"

"Really?" Fred asks. "Because I'm pretty sure 'Take me, I'm yours' works well too."

"I swear, both of you are teaming up to drive me insane."

"All I know is, Fred needs to stop bitching. The only reason Wes isn't noticing your flirting is because he's so busy mooning over you, his brain can't function," I say before pausing to take a sip of my wine. "One little push is all you guys need before there's dramatic confessions of love to cheesy orchestra music. While I seem to forever be damned to 'the friend zone'."

All three of us burst out laughing when Lorne starts imitating the theme song to The Twilight Zone.

"Bloody hell, it looks like a mall vomited in here," mutters a voice from the doorway.

"My fault, sweetie," Lorne tells Spike as I scramble to finish putting things away. "Our favorite slayer needed clothes."

"And now she has them! So, we'll just be going now," Fred chimes in, practically dragging Lorne out the door.

The door slams shut behind them, effectively leaving me alone with Spike in a room full of silky, lacy undergarments. Awkward. He glances between me and the door before raising a brow, the question going through his head being quite obvious. 'What the hell was that about?'

"You don't want to know," I grumble, trying to stuff more of the clothes into my suitcase.

With as much stuff out of the way as possible, I grab some night clothes before retreating to the bathroom to change. No, I didn't grab 'the red one', although I was very tempted. Instead, I slipped into a black, silk cami and a matching pair of pants. Definitely one of the more toned down pieces, but I wasn't in the mood for a seduction.

"Stayin' in tonight, pet?" Spike asks when I walk into the kitchen to get another glass of wine.

"No, I was thinking about heading to the club and seeing how sexy these things are. For almost a hundred and fifty bucks, it better start raining men when I walk out that door."

There's something about the way he reacts to my sarcasm that sets me on edge. The smirk and quiet laughter feels forced and it makes me wonder what's going on in that head of his. After the strange events of last night and his disappearance this morning, my gut tells me that this isn't the same Spike that I've been friends with over the last week. Something's changed.

"Are you okay?" I ask, leaning against the counter. "You seem… off tonight."

He stares at me a moment, his head cocked to one side, as he thinks about his answer.

"Fine, pet," he finally says. "Just got a lot on my mind, is all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head as he stands, moving slowly until he's right in front of me.

"Maybe another time, yeah?" he asks, pushing y hair away from my neck.

"S-sure. You know I'm here if you need me," I stammer.

Silence passes between us as he plays with the strap of my tip, causing the silk to brush softly against my shoulder. My body is tense, expecting him to do something more than teases my skin and I know he can hear my heart beating furiously inside my chest. For the life of me, I can't figure out what is going on.

"Well, g'night then," he cheerfully tells me before casually walking out of the kitchen.

Absolute shock shuts down any intentions of responding I might have had and I can feel myself gaping at the empty doorway. Yeah, something's changed. And my instincts are screaming that a lot of good is about to happen… or all hells about to break loose.

Maybe both.


	10. Week Of Weird

Chapter 10

Ugh, my head hurts. Apparently everyone at Wolfram and Hart has gone completely insane and I'm stuck on the outside waiting for the blow back. Over the last several days, there's been so much strangeness going on that I've resigned myself to hiding down in the training rooms between jobs. Angel has practically locked himself in his office after a phone call and muttering something about a great evil. Fred and Wesley are finally going at it like rabbits and, as much as I love them, they are so adorable that it's making me sick. Lorne won't stop hounding me about 'manning up' like Fred did and Spike… He's just weird.

Ever since that night in the kitchen, Spike has either completely ignored my existence or acted like the biggest ass on the planet. Like paying one of our computer specialists to hack into my desktop computer to make it play 'Baby Got Back' every time I receive an e-mail. Or mailing my unmentionables to every male in my department. It's immaturity at its best and even Lorne doesn't know what to make of it. Thank god for taking frustration out on immovable objects. Too bad Fred and Lorne figured out my hiding spot.

"Maybe he just likes you," she suggests, watching me beat the crap out of the punching bag.

"You're kidding right?" I ask, slightly winded.

"Think about it. My mom always said, 'if a boy likes you he either ignores you or is mean to you'."

"Please. If I had a dollar for every time that was true in elementary school, I'd be a very rich slut."

"Now wait a minute, baby doll," Lorne says. "She may have a point."

"You're both nuts," I exclaim, grabbing the bag. "There's nothing going on except he's being a jerk and it's really starting to piss me off. You guys know that I love him, but I can't do this anymore. I tried being his friend and look where it got me. It's time to move on."

"Move on? You've been pining over this guy for a whole year, Jinx! Are you really giving up this easy? I saw what could happen if you would just tell him!"

"Well obviously something's changed and whatever future you saw is shot to shit."

"No," Lorne yells, stubbornly. "I know what I saw!"

With a sigh, I collapse onto the mat and try to blame the forming tears on staring up at the lights.

"Why are you pushing so hard for this?" I whisper.

"We just want you to be happy," Fred replies.

"And I just want to be left alone. Please, guys. Just… give me a minute?"

I can hear the tow of them leave and it's only once the door shuts behind them that I hide my face in my hands with a sob. What's happening to me? I used to be so much stronger than this. In Sunnydale, I battled an entire army of ubervamps without fear. After that, nothing could bother me I was so numb. But ever since I came here, it's been like an emotional overload. After all this time of feeling so happy and confused and pissed, it almost seems as though my head is going to collapse in on itself from trying to keep up with it all. Maybe moving on would be for the best. Find a place of my own to see if the distance helps- although, if his dying didn't then I doubt anything will. Maybe…

The sound of the door being thrown open and heavy boots on the mats draws me out of my thoughts. I know those boots.

"What do you want, Spike?" I ask, trying to be sneaky about wiping the tears from my eyes.

"Uh, Fred said you were down here and that I should… You alright, love?"

"Fine. What about Fred?"

Turning my head to look at him, I can see the confusion and disbelief on his face. If Fred told him, I'm going to kill her.

"Said I was bein a git… Needed to apologize," he mutters, appearing too lost in thought to form complete sentences. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Why do you keep asking me that? I said I was fine."

"Right. Laying on the floor crying cause you're fine." He walks over to kneel next to me before asking, "What's really going on?"

I hate it when he looks at me like this, with his eyes so full of sincerity and worry. To avoid having to gaze into his baby blues, I get up off the floor and pace the room while unwrapping the tape from my hands.

"I was thinking. Maybe I should get my own place. It just made me a little sad to think of how quiet it will be without you there playing Crash at all hours of the night and at top volume.

"Uh-huh," is his hesitant reply. "And where'd all this come from, then? I know I've been a…"

"It's not that," I lie. "Really. I just think it's about time I stop free loading on your couch."

"Wouldn't have offered if I minded, pet."

My eyes meet his for a moment as I wonder if that was his way of asking me to stay. Could it be? Or was he just trying to be polite? But Spike being polite is like a sign of the apocalypse or something so…

"Besides, I could use an upgrade myself. Maybe we should just look into a bigger place."

Holy shit, I cannot believe he just said that. Forcing my face to go blank, I wait a moment to see if he's going to burst out laughing and say' just kidding'. It has to be some kind of joke. When he continues to look quite serious about the offer, I second guess what all Fred might have told him.

"You want to be flat mates? Seriously?" I ask. "But you've been practically baiting me into moving out all week!"

"And I thought you said this wasn't about that."

"It's not, damn it," I exclaim, suddenly very frustrated. "But if we're going to be… moving in together… then I at least deserve an explanation."

He signs loudly as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. Instead of explaining, though, he grabs a hold of my hand and begins dragging me through the building. Some weaving and one elevator ride later, I realize he's taking me down to the garage. The only place where a vamp can smoke without catching fire. Bad joke. Upon our arrival, he pulls a cigarette out for each of us before handing me his lighter.

His lighter. Shit.

"Found that in the living room that night after you went to change into your new duds," He explains, his tone showing his anger. "It fell out of your pocket."

"You left it…" I start lying, suddenly taking a huge interest in the glow of the cherry.

"In Sunnyhell. So what were you doing with it? Had it this whole time, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You should've given it back!"

"No," I yell back. "It was mine! It was all I had…"

Taking an angry drag of his smoke, Spike flicks the butt to the ground before closing the distance between us.

"Finish the thought," he commands.

I try to back away, shaking my head as I move, but his hand on my waist stops me.

"Please," he asks again, gentler this time.

"It was all I had…" I pause to take a deep breath. "Of you. I was heartbroken and it was the only thing of yours that I could lay claim to."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"


End file.
